The Billionaire's Contract Bride: Love Triangle
Vera thought her life was over the moment she caught her fiancee cheating with his ex.
Broken and filled with pain, she is approached by a billionaire who presents a simple contract to her. Let's get married.
Sylas Gold is the man admired by the entire world. He is untouchable, powerful and incredibly controlled. Their marriage was supposed to be a contract. A performance. It was a way for both of them to win.
When Vera is kidnapped by a man who looks at her like she's already his, she learns the truth Sylas never told her, about his mafia empire, the blood, and the brother who was supposed to be gone.
Cassian Gold is the man who wants everything his brother has, including Vera.
Now caught between two brothers bound by hatred, power, and obsession, Vera must decide who to trust in a world where love is dangerous, loyalty is fragile, and desire might just be her downfall.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 4
The pain from his betrayal was already wrecking me apart before the sound of the slap reached me,
A sharp and completely brutal crack split the air apart, and for a full heartbeat, I stood there in confusion, not understanding what had just happened.
My head snapped to the side, my vision blurred, and I stumbled back as the hot rush of pain bloomed across my face,
Did.. Did he just slap me?
My heels caught on a rug, and I nearly crashed on the floor. The room tilted around me and I had to slam my hands on the wall just to re-orient myself.
Evan didn't move to help me, nor did he apologize.
He didn't even flinch, all he did was stare at me with burning eyes and a heaving chest, and for the first time in my life, I saw him completely furious.
Behind him, Lyra curled on the couch, her fake sobs filling the air as she clutched her stomach and occasionally stopped sobbing just to groan in pain. Her friend hovered dramatically above her, her eyes widening with horror that felt fake.
But neither of them mattered, Evan did.
My ears still rung, my breath was rough, and my body hurt, but I gritted my teeth and stood up,
"Evan..." my voice as it left my lips was cracked, confused and filled with raw fury. "Y-You hit me? I am your fiancee for God's sake, and you hit me over her lies."
He took a step forward and clenched his jaw, "I will do something worse if you do not leave my home at this very moment," he hissed,
His home? The only reason I wasn't stumbling back was because there was a wall behind me. What did he mean by that? I had paid for half of this house myself, and now, it was his home?
I had already decided that I was not going to be with him anymore, but his words still made my world spin, and slowly, everything within me began to grow cold and hollow.
"What are you still doing here, you bitch?" he screamed, "GET OUT!"
I straightened, moving as slowly as I could. "Fine," I whispered as I glanced up and met his gaze, "I'll go."
He just blinked.
The rage and fury in his eyes flickered at my words, and just for a second, I could spot indecision in his gaze.
But I was not waiting for him to come to his senses. Evan was a lost cause, and I would have to learn to live with that.
I turned away from him before he could see the tears already beginning to streak down my face. I refused to let him see me collapse, not now, never again.
My feet carried me down the hallway on autopilot, and while I was walking, I could hear Lyra still wailing, and Evan caring for her.
With a pained smile, I pushed them out of my mind and walked towards my room. My cheeks throbbed with every pulse, and it felt like Evan's slap had left a brand on my face.
I reached the bedroom and immediately went to work, with a grunt, I yanked open the wardrobe and began to pack my things. Clothes, shoes, accessories – all of them on the floor, like trash.
I grabbed my suitcase from under the bed and started shoving my clothes inside, not bothering to fold, nor sort them. I just packed my things in complete and desperate silence.
Every single breath I took was rough, and along with the roughness came the pain, not a physical one, but an emotional one.
I zipped my suitcase with a grunt and stood up to my full height. With trembling hands, I snatched up my phone, my charger, my pox of jewelry, placed everything in another smaller suitcase, and began to drag all of these things out of the door.
I let out a sigh of relief when I reached the living room door, and neither Lyra nor Evan was there.
I stretched out my hand to turn the doorknob and walk out, when a swift and fast shadow moved into my path.
Lyra.
She stood there with her arms crossed and a wide smirk on her face. Her hand still rested protectively over her stomach, and her entire expression oozed of nothing more than triumph.
She knew she had won, and she was here to gloat.
"Well, well, well," she purred, leaning her shoulders on the door frame, "Running away already? Wow, you really are a weak bitch," she hissed, "And here's me thinking you were going to put up more of a fight."
I kept my gaze forward, gripping my suitcase tighter-my knuckles throbbed, and my jaw stung where Evan's key-clenched fist had left a cut, blood trickling down my neck. The metallic taste burned in my mouth, fueling the rage simmering inside me. "Move."I kept my gaze forward and adjusted my grip on my suitcase.
Lyra sneered, then took a lazy step towards me. "Aw, sweetheart," she smiled, "I can't believe you are actually trying to be strong now. Cute, really. Too bad it's all for show."
"Move," this time, I repeated the question through gritted teeth.
"Or what?" Lyra stretched into a cruel, triumphant grin, and she stepped directly into my path, chest puffed out like she was daring me to strike. Her sneer grew longer, and she once again blocked my path.
This time, I was done playing games with her.
With a soft grunt, I raised up my smaller suitcase-not with a weak swing, but with every ounce of pent-up fury, and slammed it into her smug.
The crack that split the air was satisfying. It was a wet, meaty crunch that made her eyes fly wide. Lyra's scream was shrill, a yelp of shock and pain, as she stumbled backward, hands flying to her face. I didn't let her catch her breath. I dropped the suitcase hard, the wheels skittering on the floor, and lunged at her with flying fists, every punch aimed at the places that had hurt me. My knuckles connected with her cheek, her shoulder and even her ribs. The sound of the smack cracked the air and Lyra screamed as she fell on the floor.
She crumpled to the floor like a rag doll, her cries turning to whimpers as she curled into a ball, blood trickling from her split lips.
I leaned down slightly, my gaze sharp, letting each word hit like a threat. "You and Evan? You'll find out soon enough. The cost of bullying me isn't just a split lip or a black eye. It's far, far more devastating, and you'll both pay for it in full."
Her eyes blurred with tears, fat and ugly, streaking down her mascara-smeared cheeks. I could hear shouts erupting from inside the house. Evan's voice, high and panicked, calling her name, but I didn't care. I didn't spare Lyra another glance, didn't let her whimpers or her sniveling guilt-trips worm their way into my head. I grabbed my suitcase, wrenched the front door open, and slammed it shut behind me so hard the walls shook.
You may also like
7.6
To pay for her father's life support, Haleigh sold herself into a marriage with Fabian Blackburn, a ruthless billionaire in a deep coma.
But on her wedding day, she caught her boyfriend cheating with her stepsister, laughing about how they would steal the inheritance the second Fabian stopped breathing. Cornered and desperate, Haleigh secretly underwent IVF using her comatose husband's frozen sperm to secure the family trust.
Weeks later, a miracle happened. Fabian woke up.
But instead of gratitude, he treated her like trash. He threw annulment papers at her face, completely disgusted by the arranged marriage.
"If you try any dirty tricks to get pregnant, I will personally drag you to a clinic and have that bastard scraped out of you."
Terrified, Haleigh hid her positive pregnancy test and desperately tried to hack her way to enough cash to escape. But while using his computer, she accidentally opened a highly classified folder.
Inside was a medical file and a photo of a severely disabled girl who looked exactly like Fabian.
Before she could process it, Fabian walked in. Seeing the screen, his cold mask shattered into pure, unhinged madness. He lunged across the room, lifting her off the floor by her throat, completely ignoring her desperate gasps for air.
"Lock her in the basement," he roared to his guards. "No food. No water."
Curled on the freezing concrete, clutching her newly pregnant belly, Haleigh didn't understand what she had just seen that turned him into a murderous monster.
But she knew one thing: if she didn't escape this terrifying estate, both she and his unborn heir would die in the dark.
8.5
Alexandrea woke up with a splitting headache in a strange hotel bed, terrified to find a brutally handsome, half-naked stranger beside her.
Before she could even scream, the door burst open. Her adoptive mother, Ivette, stormed in with a swarm of reporters and flashing cameras.
"How could you disgrace our family name like this?"
Ivette sobbed, putting on a theatrical performance of a heartbroken mother. It was a setup to completely ruin Alexandrea's reputation in front of New York's elite.
For ten years, Alexandrea had lived in a house of horrors. Her back and arms were covered in silvery scars and puckered cigarette burns left by Ivette's vicious abuse.
Yet to the public, Ivette had carefully crafted Alexandrea's image as a wild, ungrateful, and manipulative liar.
Trapped under the duvet, Alexandrea was drowning in shame, her voice lost in the storm of accusations.
She didn't understand why her adoptive family hated her so much, treating her worse than a stray dog while using her brother's future to keep her chained.
But what she understood even less was the stranger beside her.
Instead of panicking, the man slowly sat up, his presence alone silencing the frantic room. He was Ace Griffith, the billionaire heir who owned half of Manhattan.
He wrapped his suit jacket around her trembling shoulders, looked Ivette dead in the eye, and dropped a bomb.
"I will be marrying her."
Then, he carried Alexandrea away from her ten-year prison, ordering his men to dig up the Terry family's darkest secrets and her true identity.
8.6
Marrying Theron Draix in a few days was a life long dream come true.
For seventeen years, I'd loved him, revolving my life around him, and in just three days, we should be married.
"Let's break up. I won't be attending the wedding," he said.
My life shattered in that instant.
Finding out he was in love with my adopted sister was worse. They had played me and controlled my emotions.
At the end, Mireya had killed me.
If I was given a second chance, I would never love Theron and never trust Mireya.
8.6
As the eldest daughter of the Sharp family, I was treated worse than a stray dog, while my younger sister Seraphina was their precious princess.
When the family needed someone to marry a dying billionaire heir, they naturally chose me to take her place.
To force my consent, my brothers held a peanut butter sandwich to my face—knowing it was a lethal allergy—while dangling my EpiPen just out of reach.
On speakerphone, my own mother sighed in annoyance.
"Let her die. It might be for the best."
I choked out an agreement just as my throat closed up. But the forced engagement broke my sacred mystical vow, causing me to violently cough up my own lifeblood.
Seeing the blood, Seraphina dramatically fainted. My brothers instantly carried her to the hospital, stepping over my dying body and leaving me to bleed out on the cold marble floor.
I had to use a forbidden blood rune, draining my last ounce of strength, just to survive the night.
Even the mystical Order I served offered no comfort, calling only to demand I secure ten billion dollars for them or forfeit my soul for eternity.
Abandoned by my blood family and my spiritual master, I was completely alone, left with nothing but a broken body and a ticking clock.
But they made one fatal mistake: they let me live.
I turned to the dying heir they forced me to marry, a man plagued by a dark curse only I could cure.
"I will be your wife, and I will save your life," I told him.
In exchange, I would use his unimaginable wealth and power to make everyone who threw me away pay the ultimate price.
7.9
For five years, April Gamble loved Julian Travis with everything she had, trusting him completely.
But on a stormy night, he casually tossed a liquidation agreement at her feet, single-handedly destroying her grandfather's company.
He coldly admitted he only dated her to steal Vance Group's internal financial data.
"You were convenient," Julian said, swirling his whiskey without a shred of guilt.
Before April could even process the brutal betrayal, a breaking news alert lit up her phone.
She watched in absolute horror as her grandfather jumped from the ledge of the Vance Tower on live television.
Julian looked at her writhing, screaming form with utter boredom and simply ordered his bodyguard to throw her out.
Blinded by grief and tears, April sped into the torrential rain, only to be completely crushed by a hydroplaning transport truck at an intersection.
As the shattered glass tore into her skin and the metal crushed her ribs, she died with a hatred so pure it made her teeth ache.
Why did five years of devotion mean absolutely nothing to him? Why did her family have to die just to feed his ruthless greed?
When she opened her eyes again, the harsh hospital lights blinded her, but the familiar burn scar on her arm was gone.
She wasn't the betrayed financial analyst April Gamble anymore.
She had woken up in the body of Altagracia Blanchard, the most notorious, obscenely wealthy heiress in New York.
Julian had taken everything from her, but now, armed with a billionaire's empire, she was going to bury him.
8.6
For two years, I was trapped behind my own eyes, a prisoner in my own skull.
A crazed fan had hijacked my body after a brutal car crash, wearing my skin like a cheap suit.
When my soul finally locked back into my flesh in a cramped hospital room, I realized she had destroyed everything I built.
This parasitic stalker had drained my massive fortune to zero, buying luxury gifts for a mediocre actor and turning me into the internet's most hated woman.
My phone was flooded with death threats, and the hashtag demanding I go to hell was trending at number one.
Even the hospital nurses despised me. One marched into my room, raising her hand to violently slap my pale cheek.
"You psychotic bitch, you make me sick!"
Worse, my sprawling Beverly Hills estate had been foreclosed and sold to a mysterious billionaire named Kasey Dominguez.
I had absolutely nothing left. No money. No reputation. No home.
The sheer violation of watching a psychotic stranger ruin my life while I was locked in the passenger seat of my own mind made my blood boil.
I refused to let her destroy my legacy.
As the nurse's hand descended, my atrophied muscles snapped into action.
I twisted her wrist until the joint popped, grabbed the keys to my freedom, and slipped out into the cold Los Angeles night.
I was going to take my life back, starting with the billionaire who thought he owned my house.